


The Argument

by retribution_comes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Gen, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retribution_comes/pseuds/retribution_comes
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire argue. Through this, they learn about themselves, each other, and how to get through an ordeal they never prepared themselves for.





	The Argument

“Don’t patronize me, Grantaire. I’ve already had a shitty night and—”

“Oh, you’ve had a shitty night, huh?”

“Yeah, I have, smartass. Jehan is in the hospital and they—”

“And I suppose that’s my fault?”

“When did I say it was your fault?”

“Every damn time you open your mouth something is usually my fault so—”

“That’s not—that’s such a ludicrous statement—”

“Wow, someone’s busted out the thesaurus tonight.”

“ _Really?_ Are you serious?”

“When you talk like Combeferre does it make you feel more superior?”

“I am not talking like—don’t bring him into this. I get that you’re jealous of him but—”

“I’m not jealous of Combeferre.”

“Oh please, yes, you are. You always have been, I can tell.”

“You’re shit at reading emotions, Apollo.”

“ _Don’t._ Don’t call me that. I hate it.”

“Why? It’s a fucking compliment!”

“No, it’s not, it’s—”

“Apollo is a _god_ , Enjolras.”

“I know! And it makes me feel like—”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m better than other people! Like you see me as some untouchable person that’s beyond you or anyone else.”

“Don’t you think that?”

“Think what?”

“That you’re better than everyone else?”

There was silence. Enjolras and Grantaire stared at each other from across the Musain. Enjolras’ phone rang. It pierced through the tension like an arrow.

“Hello? Combeferre, hey, how’s—What? Fuck. _Fuck_. So they don’t…they don’t think they’re going to make it? Right, but only if they have the surgery? Shit. Yeah, no, I’m okay. I’m with Grantaire. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”

“How are they?”

“How do you think? They were shot in the chest.”

“They’ll be okay.”

“No, they won’t.”

“We should go to the hospital to be with—”

“No. We…We have things we need to get done here.”

There was silence.

“Are you okay?”

“What the fuck do you think, Grantaire? You think I’m okay after seeing my friend bleed out on the sidewalk? That I’m okay with walking around with my clothes stained with their blood?”

“Look, I was just asking. You don’t have to—”

“Or maybe I don’t actually give a shit. If I think I’m better than everyone else, Prouvaire’s life shouldn’t matter at all.”

“You’ve literally said that, man. You’ve literally looked us all in the eye and said that our lives don’t matter.”

“That was _not_ what I meant, you know that.”

“No, honestly, I don’t!”

“I said that our _personal_ lives didn’t count in the grand scheme of things. Pontmercy’s recent infatuation with some girl didn’t matter in the current conversation about bettering our society.”

“But it mattered to Pontmercy right then in that moment, so it should have mattered to you! And when it clearly didn’t, you came off as cold and uncaring.”

“You’re saying I don’t care about my friends?”

“I’m saying that you’re good at redirecting everyone to the big picture stuff if it means you get to avoid personal interactions.”

“ _This_ is a personal interaction. I’m not avoiding this!”

“This is a fight, Enjolras. You never avoid those.”

“And you never pass up a chance to start one! Do you just _like_ getting on my bad side?”

“I _like_ having any interactions with you at all that don’t involve you scoffing or glaring at me!”

“That’s not all I—”

“Yes, it is!”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t do those things if you weren’t such an insufferable cynic all the damn time!”

“That’s—”

“Oh no, I get it. Yeah, yeah, that’s your _thing_ isn’t it? Disagreeing with me on every point and having a problem with my every idea, that’s all just part of your reputation. You think it’s fun, don’t you? Grantaire the dispassionate, cynical asshole, who _shits_ all over his friends’ hopes and dreams of the future. You think it’s better not to believe in anything at all!”

There was silence. Enjolras and Grantaire stared at each other, standing closer together than before. Grantaire looked like someone he loved had just shot him point blank. Enjolras’ phone rang again. For a moment, Enjolras didn’t pick it up, his chest heaving with anger. Then, he did.

“Hello? Courfeyrac? Hi. Yeah, I’m … I’m okay. Yeah, Combeferre told me. They’re in surgery now? Good, okay. Keep me posted. No…I’m at the Musain trying to figure out how to deal with the police. Okay. Sure, yeah. Okay, bye.”

Enjolras hung up. Grantaire was still staring at him. 

Enjolras spoke first, his eyes on the ground. “If they die, it’ll be my fault.”

“No, it won’t.”

“I sent them to that street. I heard that there might be cops there.”

“There were cops where I was, Enjolras, and where you were. You didn’t think they’d actually shoot, they never—”

“It’s my job to consider every possibility.”

“Jehan knew what they were signing up for.”

“I shouldn’t have sent them there.” Enjolras’ fists curled and his clenched his jaw. “If they die I’ll—”

“ _Don’t_.” Grantaire’s voice was so harsh that Enjolras looked up at him. “Don’t finish that sentence. How we handle tragedy defines who we are, and if you choose to do something violent in the wake of your friend’s death, it will change you in all the wrong ways.”

“And suddenly you’re the expert in behaving appropriately?”

“I’m serious, A—Enjolras. I’m serious. But look, we don’t know for sure they’ll die anyway.”

“They might.”

“ _But_ they might not, and that’s something. Where is your limitless amount of hope?”

Something in Enjolras’ voice broke. “Shot through the chest.” His eyes became distant. “I’ve never seen…it was so much blood.”

Grantaire’s brow creased and he closed the gap between them just a little more. “You know, you were wrong.” Enjolras’ eyes snapped over to meet Grantaire’s, who tried to hide his satisfaction that his plan to get Enjolras’ attention worked. “Well, you were right on most points, but you were wrong about the biggest one. I do believe in something. Actually, I believe in quite a lot. I believe strongly in IPAs and that cheap wine tastes the same as the expensive kind. I believe that Bahorel will graduate, that Marius will marry Cosette and that Feuilly will be the most successful of us all. I believe that _The Abbey in the Oakwood_ is the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen, but _Portrait of Ross in L.A._ will always be the greatest masterpiece in the world. I believe that Jehan will live, but one day we’ll all die. I believe that this country has gone to hell and I believe that _you_ are the only one who can pull it back out. Shit, I believe that just your smile could save us all.”

Enjolras’ shoulders slumped a bit, the fight pulled out of him, replaced by exhaustion. “I wish that were true.”

“Me too. For your sake, I really do.”

There was silence. Then, Grantaire spoke again.

“Enjolras, we should go to the hospital.” He watched Enjolras shuffle some papers around on the table. “It would make you feel better to see Jehan when they get out of surgery.” He watched Enjolras run a bloodstained hand through his hair. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…I shouldn’t yell at you so much.”

“Look, I give you a good reason to, it’s okay. I just want to interact with you. If we don’t fight, we don’t talk at all.”

“I know. I know that I do this. I know I pull away from everyone, even Combeferre. It’s just I…I _care_ about you all so much. And when bad things happen, like this thing with Prouvaire, it _hurts_. And I’m so afraid of the day that I lose one of you forever and I won’t know what to do. I feel so strongly about so many things all the time that it’s exhausting. You said the thing about the way we handle tragedy defining who we are, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle it at all. I’ll just explode. I won’t be able to function. So, if I skip movie night, if I don’t go to Joly’s to play board games, if I say I have too much to do to go to the museum, then I’ll isolate myself and I…” Enjolras trailed off, his eyes red.

“Then you won’t feel so much when someone gets hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“Enjolras—”

“And I know it comes off as me being uncaring or seeming like I think I’m better than everyone else but it’s…”

“The opposite.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to Combeferre about this?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“You should talk to Combeferre. You care about what he says—”

“I care about what you say too.”

“Even though you mostly disagree?”

“Yeah. You drive me insane, Grantaire, but…I care. I do.”

For the first time that night, Grantaire smiled. “Well, look, you’re what? Sixteen?”

“Shut up. I’m twenty and you’re not that much older than me.”

“Right, well, I’ve got a year’s worth of experience over you so I know what I’m talking about. If you care about your friends and you want them to be happy, then hang out with them. Do things with them, with _us_. Because if things happen, if going down the road we’re going down leads to some of our deaths, the last thing you want is to regret not telling us how you felt. How much you cared. Living in fear of what might happen will drive you insane. And you know what won’t drive you insane? Watching a movie with your friends.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

“So come with me to the hospital. Be there with everyone else so we can go through this _together._ Be there when Jehan gets out of surgery.”

Enjolras took a small step away from Grantaire. “I _can’t_.”

“But E—”

“No! This isn’t like watching a movie. I’m so…I’m so scared. My hands, they won’t stop shaking—”

“Okay.”

“—and every time I think about it…about seeing Prouvaire hurting so much, I feel dizzy. I start…imagining I’m somewhere else, that I’m _someone_ else, just so I can get away from the feeling.”

“Okay, Enjolras.”

“It hurts!”

“I know.”

“If I go there I won’t be able to escape it—”

“Enjolras.”

“—I’ll be trapped!”

Grantaire grasped Enjolras’ arm and pulled him into a hug. He could feel Enjolras’ body shaking and the short breaths he was taking in.

“Breathe, Enjolras.”

Enjolras’ head dropped down onto Grantaire’s shoulder.

“I…can’t.”

“Yeah, you can. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

“Their hand was so cold…”

Grantaire breathed deeply, hoping Enjolras would do the same.

“…and when they looked at me, it was like they couldn’t see I was there.”

“They knew you were.”

“How do you know?”

“Believe me. Please.”

Enjolras took a long breath in and then slowly let it out. Grantaire gently released him and put his hands firmly on Enjolras’ arms.

“You know, if we go to the hospital, you’re allowed to leave. If you take one step inside and it’s too much for you, we’ll turn around and go home. You won’t be trapped.”

Enjolras took a long breath in and then slowly let it out.

“You’ll come with me?”

“Of course, dummy. And everyone else will be there too. We’ll all be sure you can get out when you need to.”

“I shouldn’t be like this. I’m the leader, I should be able to—”

“Stop, Enjolras. Leaders are humans too.”

Enjolras took a long breath in and then slowly let it out.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go. I can do it. I can.”

Grantaire smiled. Enjolras looked up at him and frowned.

“What?”

“No, nothing, I’m just…I’m so proud of you.”

“Shut up.”

“No. You need to know.”

A ghost of a smile passed over Enjolras’ face. Then he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Grantaire followed him towards the door but stopped when Enjolras’ pace slowed. Enjolras was looking down at his shaking hands, and at his shirt sleeves, stained with blood. Grantaire put his hand gently on Enjolras’ back. Enjolras spoke first.

“If they die, it won’t be my fault.”

“They’re not going—”

“But if they do—”

“Right, no.”

“—it won’t be my fault.”

“No. And all of us will help you remember. Your friends are here to support you and we’re not going anywhere.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. He put his hand on the door and pushed it open.

“My friends aren’t going anywhere.”

Maybe if he said it to himself over and over, he might start to believe it, even though it wasn’t true.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to M for beta reading!


End file.
